


Somnology: A Study in Sleep

by astrocartographer



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: 1 million pillows and they're all cayde's, Cuddling, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Vanguard Polycule, Vanhearts, discussion of post-traumatic stress, someone please pay for ikora's therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrocartographer/pseuds/astrocartographer
Summary: Months have passed since the defeat of Dominus Ghaul, but memories of the Red War still haunt Ikora at night. Cayde and Zavala seek to comfort her.
Relationships: Cayde-6/Ikora Rey, Cayde-6/Ikora Rey/Zavala, Cayde-6/Zavala (Destiny), Ikora Rey/Zavala
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Somnology: A Study in Sleep

Some nights, Ikora dreamt of the Red War. 

She was loath to admit it to anyone. As the Warlock Vanguard, she was supposed to be a bastion of strength and stability to soldiers and colleagues alike. As Ikora Rey, she was supposed to be a rock—a grounding presence to her friends and allies. Fear was not something she could afford to show, especially not fear of the past. The Red War was long since over - they celebrated Ghaul’s demise in the Tower months ago, in a night of drinking and revelry. And yet…

There were some things even countless deaths and resurrections could not erase. 

The Red War would not happen again. The City had healed from that wound—thick scar tissue forming to make them stronger and more prepared for anything the universe decided to throw at them. Humanity was prospering. Children played in the streets again. Birds returned to roost in the walls. The population of stray cats and dogs was booming, to the delight and chagrin of many. She could safely go to lunch with friends and colleagues, without worrying what imminent threats loomed on the horizon. And yet… 

And yet, and yet, and yet...

Her brain still sought to drag her back in time, to when her Light had been ripped from her, and nothing was safe at all. Her friends were in danger. There was fighting in the streets, the screams of the innocent. She watched helplessly from inside the prison of her own body as her brain replayed everything she'd seen, manipulating those memories into even more grotesque, twisted versions of reality. 

She hadn't stayed in the City long enough to witness the aftermath of the Red Legion’s attack, but her mind did an excellent job of filling in the gaps. Many a night she woke with the smell of burning flesh clogging her nose and throat, or the sounds of the dying ringing in her ears. It made sleeping… difficult. 

Ikora Rey, the Warlock Vanguard, afraid to sleep because of nightmares, like a child. 

And the  _ guilt!  _ The guilt that bloomed when she thought of the people she could have saved, had she not so hastily fled to Io. The anguish that gnawed at her chest when she was reminded of all the good Guardians that perished, Lightless, while she ran away. It was over, it was in the past, that decision was behind her, but the consequences still gripped at her heart like an icy hand. 

Even during the nights when she was not alone, wrapped in the warmth of her partners’ arms, sleep was hard to come by. She was reluctant to drift into the bleak, blunt world of her subconscious, despite how exhausted she might be. With enough coffee, she could ease the exhaustion clinging to every moment she remained awake. Or so she assured herself. 

On a Wednesday of no import, she found herself lying awake in bed, at an hour so late it had almost become early. Zavala’s arm was slung around her waist, and he snored softly behind her—a charming lack of composure for someone usually so rigid. Cayde was curled in front of her, nested in what must have been a dozen pillows. Traveler knew where he kept acquiring them; it was Zavala’s bed that they shared, and he certainly would not have approved the requisition request for one dozen extra pillows. One of his hands rested near her face, reaching out ever so slightly, in a way that coaxed a tiny smile from her lips. 

She could not sleep, not tonight, despite the length of their day. In fact, it seemed longer days always made the nights worse for her. Being awake for so long gave her more time to think, and the exhaustion let her usually carefully controlled thought patterns take a turn for the morbid. It fed into her reluctance to sleep, and her lack of sleep in turn fed into the exhaustion that allowed her brain to wander to dark places during the day. 

She turned her face halfway into her pillow to muffle a sigh. Trauma, though logical considering what she’d been through, was incredibly frustrating. She couldn’t do her job like this, but reliving her darkest hour and most piercing fears every night was not something she wanted to deal with, either. 

“That’s thirteen.” 

Her eyes flicked to Cayde. His optics were offline, but the faint, receding glow from inside his mouthparts indicated that he had indeed spoken. 

“What?”

“Thirteen sighs in the last… three minutes, according to my internal chronometer. I’ve been counting.”

Ikora blinked slowly. She hadn’t noticed. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, Cayde. Go back to sleep.” She reached out to caress the plate on his cheek where his orbital bone would be. When she tried to pull back her hand, Cayde grabbed her by the wrist, and held her there.

“You’re keeping me up with your drama.” His optics finally came online, casting a dim light across the pillow his head rested on. “What’s going on?” 

“It is nothing.” Her tone contained a warning, one that Cayde should know he'd be wise to heed. Zavala’s deep breathing tickled her neck, raising the small hairs there. 

“Come on. Why be part of a trio if we’re not there to support each other?” He patted her captive hand. She sighed. “That’s fourteen.”

“I can count, Cayde.”

“Just making sure you’re still sharp. Really, though.” He looked her in the eye. “Something’s bothering you, ‘Kora. I may not always be the brightest bulb, but even  _ I  _ can tell. And Big Blue’s worried, too.” 

Her consciousness drifted to the slumbering mountain behind her, and she sighed again. 

_ Fifteen,  _ she thought idly. 

“You needn’t trouble yourself with my problems. Sleep, Cayde.”

His face plates shifted into something resembling a pout. 

“Okay, but what if your problems are troubling  _ me? _ Aren't I allowed to worry? Isn't Zavala?” 

Her nose dipped further into the down of the pillow. 

“I suppose it doesn’t make sense for you not to worry.” He was her friend, her teammate, and her lover. He had every right. 

“Yeah.” 

He finally released her hand. She let it linger for a few moments longer, running her thumb along the plane beneath his eye before clutching it to her chest. 

“What’s going on?” he repeated, a surprising tenderness and urgency lacing his tone. Rarely was Cayde-6 genuine, but Ikora found that almost anyone, even him, became at least somewhat honest when they shared a bed with another. The fluff in all those pillows softened his playful exterior, she supposed. 

“What are you two bickering about?” came a grumble from behind her. Shit. Now they were both involved. 

“Ikora won’t talk to me about her feelings,” Cayde whined. He thumped a pillow with his head. 

“Cayde, it’s well past midnight. Leave Ikora to sleep.” Despite just waking up, Zavala was already composed. An incredible man, truly—ready to shift into full-gear in a crisis, even just after waking.

“But that’s the problem!” Cayde sat up, raising one incredulous finger in the air, while his other arm propped him up. “She’s  _ not _ sleeping! She hasn’t in ages. I would know - I don’t  _ need  _ sleep!”

Ikora sighed again -  _ sixteen -  _ and wiped a hand over her face. There was no evading this now. 

Zavala hummed and retracted his arm from around her waist in favour of placing it gently on her shoulder. 

“You’ve been upset lately,” he noted. Of course Cayde had been right—they’d probably talked about it behind her back, too. Great. Now she was sleepless, upset,  _ and  _ guilty about making her partners worry. 

She abruptly rolled onto her back, so she could have more of a conversation with both of them. 

“You two have more important things to worry about than me. The City still needs people to help them function. I am just lacking sleep, nothing more.” 

“On the contrary,” Zavala murmured, tracing an idle pattern on her deltoid., “Is it not reasonable to worry about the person who is supposed to help us maintain the City’s function?” 

"I suppose," she huffed. Besting someone with logic was supposed to be  _ her  _ trademark.

Cayde laid back down and scooted closer to her, filling the space where Zavala’s arm had once been with his own. The weight on her stomach was familiar—comforting—though she couldn’t help but feel like she was pinned by a tiger on one side, and a lion and on the other. Only they weren't trying to kill her, but help her, and that seemed to be the worse thing. 

“You don’t always have to be the most stoic, mysterious Warlock, y’know? You’re a person, too,” Cayde said softly. 

She caved. There was no winning with these two. Cayde would annoy her into talking, and Zavala would mother-hen her into doing the same. It wasn't worth the frustration of resisting when she was already so tired. 

“I’ve been dreaming of the war. Every night, almost.” She stared at the ceiling. It was flat and featureless, with no patterns to follow with her eyes as a distraction from talking about her own weakness. “I feel… I feel as though I should have done more. I ran away, and left the innocent people of the City to die while I retreated to Io. My mind will not let me forget that, even in my dreams.” 

“Ikora -” They both spoke at the same time, but Cayde yielded to Zavala.

“You did what you felt was right.” His voice was low, humming in her chest, like the purring of a cat. “You may have left the City, but nobody thinks you a coward. Retreating so that you may fight another day is an intelligent play. It is not abandoning people to die. Preserving your own life is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah,” Cayde said eagerly. “Not to mention, blaming yourself for the Cabal killing people would be like - would be like me shooting Zavala and blaming the gun for the bullet.”

“Which you have done before,” Zavala said wryly. 

“That’s not important right now!” 

Ikora snorted. 

“What we  _ mean  _ is -” Cayde interjected before Zavala could speak again - “you did something that ultimately helped us fight back against the Cabal. Sure, people died. But that’s not all on you. That’s on the people who did the killing.”

“You did not forsake your duty to the City and its people,” Zavala affirmed. “I would judge you differently if you did.” 

They had not convinced her. Nonetheless, she murmured, “Thank you both. Truly.” 

“Pretty half-assed,” Cayde noted, astute as ever. 

“One conversation will not fix complex trauma,” Ikora retorted.

“No, it won’t,” Zavala agreed. “But perhaps us making sure you sleep tonight will help.” Cayde nodded quickly, seeming to like this idea. “Come, get comfortable. We’ll stay awake until you get some rest.” 

“You don’t have to  _ baby  _ me -”

“Oh no,” Cayde said in a terrible falsetto, “my  _ hot  _ boyfriends want to cuddle me all night and take care of me. How awful.” Ikora glowered at him, Void Light dancing across the tips of her fingers, illuminating the bedsheets in a silent threat. Cayde just laughed. “You don’t scare me.” 

He pecked her on the lips. 

“Alright, you two. Cutlery drawer time. Let’s go. Spoon train.” He rolled over and shoved himself against Ikora hard enough to wind her slightly. Metal bodies were not meant to hit flesh ones like that. Despite the slight pain, it made her laugh a little. “C’mon, Ikora. Embrace me!” 

Ikora shook her head, but obliged, turning and snaking her arms around Cayde’s slender waist. Zavala followed, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, neck, then cheek before settling in. His arms were almost long enough to encircle her and Cayde both. She would never admit it aloud, but she appreciated how protected she felt, backed against his chest like this. 

Her seventeenth sigh of the night was one of contentment, as she slowly drifted off, sandwiched between her partners. 

\-- 

When she woke the next morning, she could recall no nightmares from the previous night. The only pain she felt was physical, because Cayde had fallen asleep on top of her wrist. 

Traveler knew she loved him, and she loved Zavala, more than perhaps anything else in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> oooookayyyyyyyyyy so this is the first fic I've published in 9 years and the first one was an edward elric x oc fic. what's up ao3 i'm mads i'm 21 and i never learned how to write  
> the zav/ikora/cayde tag was WOEFULLY lacking in fic and I don't know how to write porn so instead I've taken it upon myself to write shmoopy fic about people caring for each other because that's what I need right now  
> special thanks to leaux ([LEAUX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LEAUX/pseuds/LEAUX) on ao3 and [@leaux_wren](https://twitter.com/leaux_wren) on twitter) for beta reading this fic and slogging through my borderline academic paper style writing. you're a gem. please go read leaux's fic it made me weep  
> hope you all enjoyed! if you want to cry about vanhearts or o14 or zav/cayde with me you can find me on twitter [@antlerlad](https://twitter.com/antlerlad)


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